


he sings a love song while we stroll along

by mathgoat



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Mike Hanlon is a Good Friend, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Snowball Fight, Winter, author lives in the southern hemisphere and wrote this on a very cold day, this is nothing but cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathgoat/pseuds/mathgoat
Summary: In which Richie spills hot chocolate on himself, Eddie wins two kinds of fights, Mike has a question, and all three of them get to sayI told you so.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon & Richie Tozier
Comments: 24
Kudos: 150





	he sings a love song while we stroll along

**Author's Note:**

> A change of pace! Some fluff! This was inspired by a HC I saw on yelleem’s Instagram story. It was meant to be super short and sweet and somehow it turned into something moderately long and sweet, whoops. Title is from Winter Wonderland <3

Mike turned eighteen before the rest of them and he insisted on having all seven of their friends crammed into his bedroom for a whole weekend, huddled together on the couch in front of the television and consuming far more of his famous hot chocolate than any teenager should be allowed. Not that Richie was complaining - he’d been the one there when Mike had first discovered that the best way to make hot chocolate was with actual chocolate and on the stove in the first place, had suggested at the time that Mike bottle and sell it because it was so fucking good.

Beverly’s legs were currently on Richie’s lap on the couch and Eddie was on his other side, admiring her painted toenails. Bill and Stan were on a mattress on the floor with their backs against the couch, Ben was in the armchair and Mike was standing, passing around mugs to everyone after putting in a movie. They’d all rolled out of bed and trudged downstairs when the farm animals started making noise in the morning, all clad in dressing gowns and beanies and thick socks to stave off the cold. They’d loaded up the fireplace and crowded in front of the TV and Mike and Bill had disappeared into the kitchen to get them breakfast and hot drinks while Eddie and Richie had fought over what movie they were going to watch today.

Richie let Eddie choose, of course, but he let him think he’d actually won the argument and not just been allowed to win because Richie liked seeing his eyes light up when he got what he wanted. Richie secretly wanted to watch Home Alone, anyway. When Mike had finally settled on the beanbag next to Ben, Eddie played the movie.

“It’s not even Christmas, yet, and _I’m_ here,” Stan groaned. “Why are we watching this?”

“Because Richie let Eddie choose again,” Ben said, and how dare he call Richie out like that?

Eddie frowned. “Hey! I won fair and square.” He pouted, grabbing the pillow from behind his head and throwing it across the room to smack Ben in the head. “Not my fault this dickhead doesn’t understand how betting works.”

Richie grinned, reaching over to ruffle Eddie’s hair until his hand got swatted away. “You’re just so easy to rile up, Eds. Such a feisty yet adorable little shithead.”

“Shut it, you two,” Beverly cut in, wiggling her feet in Eddie’s face. “You chose this movie, so watch it.”

“Does Santa go through customs like us?” Richie quoted, at least five minutes too early.

“What?” Eddie snapped. “That’s so not how the line goes.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t!”

Richie chuckled. “See? Feisty and adorable. Cute cute _cute!”_

“Guys, shut _up,”_ someone complained.

Richie mimed zipping his lips shut and leaned into Eddie, sliding his arm around his shoulders. Eddie grumbled, folded his arms across his chest, but leaned back against Richie’s side anyway. And when the actual line _does Santa Claus have to go through customs?_ came from one of the characters in the movie, Eddie started giggling, pressing his face into Richie’s sweater.

“Told you,” Eddie mumbled.

Richie just turned to press a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And what do you have to say to me?”

“You know you were right, Eds.” Richie could see Eddie grinning, his face illuminated by the glow of the television.

“Yeah, but I like to hear you say it.”

“Oh my god, do you guys ever ssssstop?” Bill asked.

“Just ignore them,” Stan muttered. “They’ll disappear into the kitchen in a moment once they realise their hot chocolate’s gone cold.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, Stanthony.” Richie tapped Eddie’s shoulder. “Come on, Spaghetti. Gimme your mug and I’ll heat ‘em up in the microwave.”

“No,” Mike said. “I’ll do it on the stove. Don’t you dare ruin my hot chocolate like that.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Richie began, taking his and Eddie’s mugs and standing up.

“Move your ass, Rich!” Beverly tried to look around him, smacking him on the thigh when he didn’t immediately jump out of her way.

“Hey, careful of the goods, Red! Both the hot drinks and my dick, please.” He heard Eddie and Stan groan simultaneously, smirking as he left the room with Mike hot on his tail. “Dude, I promise it’s no big deal to just chuck these in the microwave for a couple-a minutes ‘till they’re piping hot again.”

Mike shook his head. “It’s fine. I watched this movie with my grandma last weekend, anyway.”

Richie let him take the mugs and pour their contents back into the saucepan. “It’s your birthday, though,” he tried, but Mike just waved him off and started warming the drinks. “Fine, but I’m gonna stick my head back into the living room then so I can see what’s going on.”

“You mean so you can screech at Eddie from across the room?”

Richie spun around and slapped his hand over his heart. “Michael! How dare thee call me out on my bullshit?”

Mike chuckled. “You’re so predictable.”

“Well, that’s gotta change. What kind of comedian will I be if my audience knows the punchline before I even start the joke?”

“Your audience? You mean us? _Oh,_ you think you’re going to make it to the big stage?”

“Oh, hilarious, you are.” Richie rolled his eyes. “Your insults mean nothing to me, Mikey. _Nothing.”_ He poked his head into the living room and waved his arms around until Eddie (and Beverly and Ben) looked at him and stuck his tongue out while Eddie flipped him off. He heard Mike chuckle again.

“Hey, Rich, can I ask you something?”

“Ten inches.”

Mike snorted, then stopped stirring and gave Richie a look. “Absolutely not what I’m talking about.” He sounded serious, so Richie shut the kitchen door and walked back around to the stove.

“What’s up then?” Richie crossed one ankle over the other and folded his hands, leaning against the kitchen counter. “What’s the ol’ farm boy need advice about from a trash talker such as myself?”

Mike switched off the stove and picked up a mug, spooning the hot chocolate back in. “How did you know you were into guys?”

Richie’s eyebrows flew up, disappearing into his hair. “Well, that came out of left field. Um, I don’t know? I was probably checking out a dude and then realised that I didn’t mind the fact that he didn’t have tits.”

Mike rolled his eyes, handed Richie a mug. “That’s it? Just a random epiphany?”

“I mean,” Richie continued, voice dropping in volume a little, “I did, uh, I do have a crush on a boy, actually.”

This time Mike’s brows rose. “I thought you liked that girl from your calculus class.”

“I did. Sort of.” Richie shrugged. “This was before that.”

The corner of Mike’s lips twitched. “Is it Eddie?”

“What?!” Richie shrieked, fumbled with the mug in his hand and it slipped, falling from his grip and crashing to the floor, hot chocolate splashing all over his legs. “Ow, fuck, fuck me, _shit.”_

Mike was kneeling down with a tea towel in his hand in an instant, tugging at Richie’s pants and telling him to change before he got too cold.

“Cold? It’s fucking _hot,_ Mike.”

“It’ll get cold in a minute and then you’re going to start shivering.”

“You just wanna see me naked, that’s it, ain’t it? Want a quick look at my monster wang?”

“Keep dreaming, Rich,” Mike said. He stood up and pointed towards the bedroom. “You should change, though. If you get sick, Eddie will kill both of us. And we’re talking about this when you get back.”

“Talking about what now?” Richie played dumb, sort of hoping Mike would drop the subject.

“Change! Go, now!”

When Richie returned in his spare pair of sweatpants, Mike was standing at the stove, pouring a new batch of hot chocolate into two new mugs. Richie winced.

“Sorry for breaking your cup.”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you didn’t step in the broken ceramic.”

Richie picked up a mug and took a sip, humming contently. “Fuckin’ delicious. I stand by my statement that you should sell this to people.”

Mike just chuckled. “So, Eddie, huh?”

Richie whipped out the English guy, said, “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”

Mike lowered his chin and gave Richie a look. “So you won’t mind if I tell Eddie that you used to have a crush on him?”

“Oh my god, please don’t,” Richie whined. “Yes, yes, _fine,_ I still like him. It’s fucking embarrassing, though. It’s a stupid middle school crush that’s gone on too long and do you have any idea how difficult it is to be in love with someone who likes to lie on top of you in a confined space like the couch or the hammock?” Richie realised his slip up too late, groaned, and buried his face in his hands. “Just kill me now, please.”

“Rich,” Mike’s voice was gentle and quiet, “It’s alright if you’re in love with him. If it’s any consolation, I honestly think you were his gay awakening, too.”

Richie’s head shot up. “No, don’t say shit like that. I don’t need your bullshit pity observations. Just because Eddie’s gay doesn’t mean anything. He probably likes Bill or something. Everyone likes Bill.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, sighing softly.

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Do _you_ like Bill?”

“We’re not talking about me here. We’re talking about you telling Eddie how you feel.”

“What the fuck, dude? That’s not what we’re talking about at all. _You_ were the one who asked about my fuckin’ sexuality discovery and now I’m thinking that’s ‘cause you’re having an identity crisis of your own, hm?” Richie waited for a moment and Mike just stared at him. “Am I hot or cold?”

“Too hot. But whatever, I don’t really wanna talk about me right now because I’m still figuring things out. I just thought since you already went through this whole thing that you might share some insight, but I should’ve known you’d just deflect like this.”

Richie’s eyes dropped to the floor and he reached out to grab Mike’s hand. “Hey, Mikey, I’m sorry. I know it’s a shitty thing, trying to figure yourself out. I’m sorry, I’ll take you seriously, okay? If you wanna talk, I’ll do my very best to keep my mouth shut.”

Mike’s lips quirked into a soft smile. “Thanks, Richie. I’ll definitely come to you later once I think about this a bit more. Now. Eddie.”

“What about Eddie? I’m not fuckin’ telling the guy that I’m in love with him.”

Mike sighed. “At least take his drink to him while it’s still hot.”

That, Richie could do.

After the movie finished and after Eddie and Stan berated Richie and Mike for disappearing for half of the goddamn film, Ben suggested they go outside and build snowmen.

“It hasn’t snowed this much for a few winters and we should make the most of it,” he was saying while they pulled on their gloves and coats. “Who knows how many more winters we’ll all have together.”

“Dude,” Richie grumbled, “No one wants to think about college right now. We’ll all come back and visit on winter breaks anyway so don’t get your granny panties in a twist.”

Beverly smacked him on the arm. “Just for that, we’re taking Eddie for our snowman team.”

“Who says I wanted him?”

She just gave him a look.

_Did they all fucking know?_

“Fine, have him. He’s too small to build anything good anyway.”

“Stop passing me around like the town skank,” Eddie said.

Richie snickered. “Hey, ain’t that you, Bev?”

“Beep beep, Richie,” she said.

Richie, Mike and Stan were winning the snowman building competition after twenty minutes, with all of them having substantially longer legs than the others which enabled them to run off to find the perfect sized sticks and rocks to use to decorate their cold creations. Richie, unfortunately, kept getting distracted by Eddie’s rosy cheeks and his adorable fluffy earmuffs, fingers itching to lob a ball of snow at the boy just to get him to snap at him and call him an idiot and maybe throw snow back.

Oh.

Oh _yes._

“Hey, Stanley,” Richie whispered, despite being several yards away from the other group. “I’m gonna start a snowball fight. Back me up.”

“What the fuck, no. You’re on your own, Richard.”

“Ugh. Hanlon?”

Mike shook his head.

“You guys suck ass,” Richie grumbled, squatting and digging his gloved hands into the snow to gather it into a tightly packed ball. He patted the snowball a few times, glancing up to see where Eddie was, and found him facing away, fretting over the sharp ends of their snowman’s stick arms. Richie stood up slowly and lifted his arm with the snowball in hand, ready to throw. He could hear Eddie going off at his team, hands waving about in the air.

“Except, if you stab your fucking arm on this, _Bill,_ then it won’t matter how fucking amazing it looked because then we’re going to have to drive you to the hospital in Bangor and that’s at least a forty-minute drive and you don’t even want to know what kind of shit can enter your system through an arm wound in for— _eek!”_ Eddie whipped around as the snowball landed on his back, cold flecks hitting the base of his neck between where his coat collar ended and his scarf began. “What the fuck was that?! _Richie!_ I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

Eddie bent down and scooped up some snow, frantically packing it into a ball as Richie ducked behind his snowman and held his hands over his head.

“Show yourself, coward!” Eddie yelled across the yard, and then a freezing cold ball came flying over to them and hit their snowman right in the head, knocking the beanie Richie had put there right off onto the wet ground.

“Hey!” Stan shouted back at Eddie. “That was mine!”

“Oh god,” Mike said.

“Yeah?!” Eddie called. “What are you gonna do about it, Stanley?”

“Oh no,” Mike said. “Stan, no.”

Stan scooped up some snow and threw a rather pathetic snowball across at Eddie, landing by his feet. Richie watched Eddie looking at the ground for a moment, before the rest of his team came around to stand next to him.

And then Beverly cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed, “Snowball fight!”

Richie jumped up and grabbed some snow, flinging it at Bill or Ben or whoever was running at them and then immediately ducked around the back of his snowman to lock eyes on his main target. Eddie was screeching at Stan and throwing consecutive snowballs at him, half-crouched so he could scoop up the snow, pack it efficiently with his other hand and then whack Stan in the face or shoulder or wherever he could reach. Stan had a stick in one hand and was waving it around near Eddie, doing a splendid job of fending him off.

“That’s cheating!” Eddie cried, boldly reaching out to grab the stick from Stan. They tugged it back and forth for a moment and Richie took that as his opportunity to throw a snowball at Eddie.

It hit him right in the face.

Richie giggled as Eddie spluttered, turning his head and glaring at Richie. “Come on, Spaghetti! Payback time!”

“Oh, you are _so_ dead, Rich!”

Eddie scrambled off the ground and charged at him, leaving Stan and his stick and grabbing two handfuls of snow. He threw them both at Richie, hitting him square in the chest in quick succession and then bent down to grab more snow. Richie turned around and sprinted off to hide behind a tree, gathering some snow while he waited for Eddie to catch up and laughing when he heard him screaming at Richie for running away.

“Richie! Where are you hiding!?”

Richie stepped out and quickly threw a large snowball at Eddie and then darted back behind his tree. Eddie squealed. Richie laughed, spinning around and running off in the other direction, back to where their friends were play-fighting.

“Richie!” Mike yelled. “You abandoned us! Come hold down the fort!”

Stan was crouched behind the snowman and dutily making snowballs, which he passed to Mike to throw across the yard at Beverly and Bill. Ben was guarding their snowman like his life depended on it.

“Whoever knocks down the others’ snowman first wins,” Stan explained, far too calm considering the fact that no one was blocking their snowman from the onslaught of Bev and Bill’s snowballs.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Richie gathered two handfuls of snow, turning to throw one at Eddie as he ran past and then making a break for the other team’s snowman. “For freedom!”

“This isn’t Braveheart, dickhead!” Eddie screeched, lunging at Richie right before he made it to the others, tackling him to the ground.

Richie huffed and hit the ground with a thud as Eddie rolled on top of him, flicking snow in Richie’s face and laughing because he wasn’t the one wet and covered in snow.

“Pinned ya!” Eddie said, grinning.

Richie’s hands flailed about to try to knock Eddie off him and he whacked someone’s shin, heard Bill yelp out in pain and then stumble backwards.

“Bill, be careful!” Beverly cried, but it was too late.

Bill tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the ground, crashing into his own team’s snowman and sending snow flying everywhere, across Richie and Eddie on the ground and Beverly and Ben’s shoes. Richie heard Stan and Mike cheering from across the yard, celebrating their victory. He squirmed, wiggling his body and tapping Eddie on the shoulder.

“C’mon, hop off my dick, Eds.”

“Don’t be fucking gross,” Eddie snapped, pressing his hands harder against Richie’s shoulders.

Mike and Stan came over and Mike helped Bill up out of the pile of snow. “I d-d-deserve some hot chocolate after this bullsh-sh-shit,” Bill grumbled.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go back inside,” Mike agreed. “It’s cold. Richie?” He gave him a pointed look.

Richie nodded vehemently and sat up without warning, pushing Eddie to the snowy ground. He scrambled to his feet before Eddie could retaliate and extended his hand to him. “Let us go then, you and I, Eddie my love.”

Eddie stared at him for a moment. “Isn’t that that famous poet?”

“Indeed, Spaghetti,” Richie said, snapping his fingers. “T. S. Eliot. What a romancer.”

The others started to head back to the house as Eddie reached up for Richie’s hand, and Richie really should have seen it coming when Eddie yanked on his arm and pulled him back to the ground. Richie squeaked, falling beside Eddie, who then pushed him onto his back again and swung a leg across his waist.

“Pinned ya again,” Eddie said, smirking.

“This isn’t the Lion King, Spagheds,” Richie teased, lips twitching into a grin. “What, you don’t want some more hot chocolate?”

“No,” Eddie said, his hands coming down to grab Richie’s wrists. “I wanna win this fucking fight.”

“Oh, we’re having our first fight, are we? I wasn’t even aware. I don’t have my pint of ice cream and sad songs mixtape ready.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he climbed off Richie’s lap. “Get up. I do want hot chocolate, actually. We can continue this later.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n Kaspbrak.” Richie got to his feet and gave a salute. He waited for a beat as Eddie stared at him and smiled, nodding his head in gesture towards the house. Eddie turned around and Richie followed for a few steps, before silently bending down to scoop up a ball of snow and throw it at the back of Eddie’s head. “Tricked ya!”

Eddie whipped around, face red and fuming. “Fucking— Richie!” He surged forward, smacking Richie in the chest and knocking him backwards, giving Eddie just enough time to duck down and grab a handful of snow to throw at him.

“Ah!” Richie yelped, hands coming up to cover his face not quickly enough, and he was hit with a splash of freezing cold right on his cheek. “You little bitch!” He ran back to where the ruined snowman was, swiping his hand through the pile and flicking snow at Eddie.

“Me!? _You_ tricked me!” Eddie screeched, falling to the ground on his knees and digging both hands into the pile of snow. He attacked Richie with two simultaneous snowballs, hitting him on the arm until he stumbled back to where his team’s snowman was still standing. “You’re going down, Tozier!”

Richie smacked the rocks and sticks off of the snowman and picked up the entire head, lifting his arms and throwing the whole thing in Eddie’s direction. Eddie squealed and rolled to the side, barely dodging the cold blow. His beanie and earmuffs fell off but he didn’t reach for them, just stuck his hands back in the pile of snow.

Eddie threw snowball after snowball at Richie so frantically that there was no way his aim could be any good, but he was too quick for Richie, the snowballs hitting him square in the chest in consecutive blows. Richie stumbled backwards, gathered a particularly large snowball and aimed it straight for Eddie’s face. He threw it, watched it fly across the yard and land perfectly. Eddie fell backwards onto his ass and Richie sprinted forward, tackling Eddie to the ground again and straddling his waist.

Eddie yelped. “Richie! It’s fucking cold! Get off of me!”

“No can do, Spagehds!” Richie dropped his hands on top of Eddie’s, pinning him to the ground, until Eddie’s knee came up and thumped him in the back. _“Oof.”_

Eddie pushed his hands up, knocking Richie off him and then clambered on top. They tumbled around in the snow like that for a bit and Richie’s clothes were soaking, but he didn’t care, hardly noticed anything else over the sound of Eddie’s delighted laughter.

Eddie had him pinned to the ground again within a minute, one knee in the dirt and one on Richie’s stomach. “You’re lucky I don’t crush you,” Eddie said, still giggling. “Why you ever try to fight me when you _know_ I’m stronger than you is beyond me.”

Richie smirked, taking Eddie’s speaking moment to shove at his chest and roll them over again, getting Eddie beneath him. Richie straddled Eddie, clenched his legs on either side of his waist and effectively stopped him from moving at all.

“Maybe I just wanna get all up in your space,” Richie said, probably too seriously. “Maybe I _want_ to see you overpower me with your deceivingly strong little arms.” The flush that rose to Eddie’s cheeks was completely worth it.

Eddie’s laughter had died down a little but he was still smiling. Richie’s eyes moved without permission, darting down to look at Eddie’s lips, the wide grin taking over half of his face, teeth poking out and cheeks rosy pink from the cold and from Richie’s words.

He wanted to kiss that smile right off Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s smile faltered, eyes softening even more as they continued to stare at each other, and Richie was too busy admiring Eddie’s blushing cheeks to notice that he was also looking at his lips. Richie’s chest ached, his own grin transitioning from one of overwhelming joy to something gentler, fonder, his mind moving towards something that he’d been learning to avoid until Mike had insisted he talk about it that morning. But, if the light dancing around in Eddie’s eyes was anything to go by, if Richie’s awful eyesight could just be on his side this one time, maybe he could allow himself to think that Eddie might not mind if Richie closed the distance between them. Maybe Mike had been onto something, Richie thought, watching Eddie’s expression soften again, his fond gaze matching Richie’s.

And while Richie was too busy letting his brain mull over this idea for the next minute, while his eyes continued to flit back and forth between Eddie’s eyes and his pink nose and his lips, Eddie made the decision for him.

“Richie,” he breathed, so quietly that Richie might not have heard him if he hadn’t been watching his mouth so intently.

“Yeah, Eds?” Richie breathed back.

Eddie nibbled on his bottom lip for a moment and Richie could have sworn his heart stopped working, because then Eddie leaned up and pressed his mouth to Richie’s. Eddie’s lips were a little chapped and freezing cold and Richie wanted nothing more than to feel them against his for the rest of forever.

Richie tilted his head and let their lips slide together, warming up from the friction against each other. Their noses were aligned perfectly, slotted together in the space between them, allowing Richie to press down harder, his mouth moving seamlessly with Eddie’s. Richie parted his lips. He knew he was likely pushing his luck when he let his tongue swipe across the seam of Eddie’s lips, expected Eddie to pull back and wipe his mouth or stare at him in horror. He did not expect Eddie to open his mouth and slip his tongue alongside Richie’s, warm and soft and wet, a welcome contrast to the bitter cold of their surroundings. Eddie’s tongue ran along the backs of Richie’s teeth, pressing into each bump and groove that had formed after years of forgetting to wear his retainer. A soft noise escaped Eddie’s mouth when Richie tilted his head the other way and brought one gloved hand up to cup the back of his head, damp fabric pressing into the side of Eddie's neck.

Richie pulled back just a fraction to breathe. Hot air from both of their mouths gathered in the new sliver of space between them, fogging up his glasses. He chuckled, bumped his nose gently against Eddie’s and heard him huff in response.

“I must be dreaming,” Richie said, voice nearly lowered to a whisper, “Because there’s no way in hell that Eddie Kaspbrak just put his _tongue_ inside _my_ trash mouth.”

Eddie giggled, dropping his head back against the dirty snow. “Trust me, he’s just as surprised as you are.”

Richie hummed, swooping down for another kiss, chaste and sweet. Eddie giggled against his lips, making it rather difficult to keep kissing him. “Stop laughing,” Richie mumbled into Eddie’s half open mouth. “Let me smooch you without my freakin’ buck teeth clacking against yours.”

That just made Eddie laugh harder, shoulders shaking slightly as he tried to keep his mouth shut and kiss Richie back. “Rich,” Eddie said between kisses, a little muffled, “I’ve never been able to stop myself laughing around you.” His hand skirted up Richie’s side to rest on his shoulder. “Why would it stop now?”

Richie grinned and pulled back to look down at Eddie. “I always knew you found me irresistible.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Fuck you. You’re the least funny person I know,” he said, but he couldn’t stop his lips twitching back into a smile. He shivered. “Shit. It’s cold and we’re soaking. If I get sick, I’m going to murder you.”

“Oh, man, to die at the hands of a five foot nothing gremlin. What a way to go, eh?” Richie teased, but he rolled off Eddie’s lap anyway.

They hadn’t noticed Mike standing there with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, trying not to watch them and definitely not itching to go tell their friends about this development unfolding on the ground in front of him.

Eddie got up and brushed his hands down his body, flicking any remnants of snow away. He was frowning, dusting his gloves off and snatching his soaking wet beanie and ear muffs from the pile of ruined snowman, until Richie reached out his hand and beckoned for Eddie to take it as they walked back to the house.

“Come on, Eds. The others are gonna think you really did murder me.”

“Let them. Better than them knowing that I fucking _like_ you.”

Richie chuckled as they rounded the corner and nearly bumped into Mike.

“Bit late for that,” Mike said, offering them a sheepish smile. He held up the mugs. “Hot chocolate?”

Eddie snuck a glance at Richie, his expression a strange, adorable mixture of horrified and amused, and he shrugged. “Sure.” He took the mug and sipped it. “You know, Mike, this is so good that you could probably sell it to people. Have a hot chocolate stand outside school or something, like a lemonade stand but for winter.”

Richie threw his hands in the air. “See, I told you! It’s not just me! Seriously, dude, you’ve gotta listen to Eddie. No one can ignore Eddie, not even you.”

“No, it’s just you who can’t ignore him,” Mike said, holding out the other mug until Richie took it. “And I’m definitely telling everyone.”

Eddie groaned, burying his face in his mug. “I hate both of you.”

“No you don’t,” both Mike and Richie said at the same time.

Richie laughed happily, stepping closer to Eddie to sling his arm over his shoulder. “You could never hate us, Eds.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eddie sighed. “Mike, you’re off the hook.”

Mike chuckled and turned to head back inside, but not before sparing Richie a glance over his shoulder. He gave Richie a kind, gentle smile, maybe with a hint of _I told you so_ that made Richie want to smack him and also wrap him up in a hug.

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice snapped Richie’s attention back to him. “Kiss me.”

Richie leaned down as Eddie surged up onto his toes, their lips colliding clumsily and Eddie’s drink sloshing around in the mug.

“Careful,” Richie said against his lips, “Don’t wanna get that all over me again.”

Eddie pulled back and frowned. “Again?”

“Oh, yeah, in the kitchen earlier? Mikey was trying to convince me to make a move on you and I broke a cup and scalded my delicate pale skin.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. Idiot,” he said fondly. “My idiot now, though, I suppose.”

“I’ve always been your idiot. Eds,” Richie said. “Come on, we going in?”

Eddie smiled and nodded, reaching out to take Richie’s hand again. He set his mug down on the ground next to them. “Yeah. But first, get back over here. I wasn’t done kissing you.”

Richie complied.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this then please leave me a comment!! They literally motivate me to write so much. Or come chat to me on tumblr [@bowtiescarves.](http://bowtiescarves.tumblr.com) :))))


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